Morgan was aware of everything—their footfalls on the hardwood, the low amber glow of the wall sconces, Patrick's hand warm at the small of her back. Not pushing, just present.
He opened the door and let her enter first. She stepped in, feeling as if she was being given a gift of sorts in the form of a peek into his personal space. Intohim.
The plaster walls hadn’t yet been restored, nor had the wide plank floors been sanded and refinished, but that didn’t diminish the elegance of the craftsmanship. A trio of large windows looked out over the front of the house above a curved bench seat. It was a big space without much in it. A simple but well-crafted bed and matching dresser with some framed photos. A nightstand with books and a lamp.
Simple. Tidy. Precise.
Patrick crossed to the window and angled the blinds, then turned to look at her. He said nothing, just waited patiently, giving her the time to decide and all the power. If she turned around and walked right back out, he wouldn’t have tried to coax her to stay, but he wanted her to. She could see it in his eyes.
She wanted it too.
She crossed the room.
He waited. His body language was casual and relaxed but his eyes… She couldseethe things he wanted to do to her in those amazing blue eyes. It was only when she stood before him that she could see the tension in his shoulders, as if it was taking every bit of his self-control to remain still. Like if he moved, he’d scare her away.
Reaching up, she framed his face in her hands, and still, he did nothing.
“Patrick,” she said softly. “If you don’t want me to kiss you, you need to tell me now.”
In answer, one of his hands slipped under her hair and cupped the back of her head. The other slipped around her waist, gently urging her forward, pressing against her body so there was no question he was right there with her.
The kiss started slow and gentle. A brush of lips, then another until it was no longer enough.
Patrick angled her head and deepened the kiss. His arm tightened, a steel band of muscle that was possessive as it was necessary. A low sound rumbled up from his chest, sending shivers of desire through her.
This was a side of Patrick Callaghan she hadn’t seen before. Gone was the playful charmer and the focused analyst. In its place, a man who had the ability to make her forget the rest of the world existed.
He drew back a fraction. She wanted to grab him by the shirt and pull him right back.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice deliciously rough.
“Yes,” she said, and heard the faint unevenness in her own voice.
He smiled. Smiled that crooked half-smile that before had looked flirty and now looked… wicked.
One arm moved from around her waist to beneath her bottom, lifting her effortlessly. Her legs wrapped around his hips of their own accord. His tongue was doing amazing things to hers and they were moving backward until she was seated on the edge of the bed.
Patrick went to his knees on the floor and looked up at her. Another question.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He didn’t ask again.
With far more patience than she possessed, Patrick unwrapped her like a precious gift, touching and kissing each part of her as he revealed it. Then, fully clothed, still on his knees, he lifted her legs over his shoulders. Gazed at her like he was a starving man and she was a feast.
No one had ever looked at her with even a fraction of that intensity.
He raised his eyes in silent question and she hissed. Actuallyhissed.
“Don’t ask me for permission. I’m giving you a standing yes. If I want you to stop, I’ll tell you.”
His eyes blazed hot enough to make her think that maybe she should have been more careful about granting blanket permission and a full access pass. Then he buried his head between her legs and she didn’t care about anything else.
The man hadskills.
It was only after he’d made her come so hard she’d seen stars that her lust-soaked brain realized that he was still fully dressed.
They needed to rectify that immediately.